If time would stand still
by 20BlueRoses
Summary: Time has passed. Things have been good. But now he's about to lose everything and nothing has ever hurt more. Cal/Ethan
1. Chapter 1

Another Cal&Ethan fic because I'm still addicted. Originally this was going to be a multi-chapter but I've had to cap it at 2 parts, partly because I don't think I'd have enough material to keep it going and partly because I shouldn't give myself any more reasons to put off writing Piece by Piece (I'm determined not to stop with that one until it's complete). However, it may explain why there's lots of scene setting and hints to things that in my head I have planned but may not ever reach paper.

This is set 8-10 years post Reap the Whirlwind. Everything happened as it happened with the major exception that Cal survived.

I hope there's still some Cal & Ethan fans on here (wave at me!). Please let me know what you think. Part 2 is about half written and will be up as soon as it's complete.

* * *

1.

* * *

Their kitchen is noisy. It always is. In the background, the TV prattles away; some newsreader, not cartoons, because it's midweek and they'd never get Millie fed, dressed and to school on time if there was another distraction. Still, the five year old is singing a tune that Cal's pretty sure is the theme to one of her favourite programmes, so they may as well have left it on the kid's channel anyway.

Across the kitchen, Emma is making helicopter noises as she tries to entice their youngest, Oscar, to eat his breakfast. He's crying, pushing the spoon away as soon as it comes anywhere near his mouth.

"He's too clever for the helicopter trick, Em," Cal says.

"Well what would you suggest?"

"I dunno, hold him still, force feed him."

"Cal, he's a baby! I swear, you're going to get us reported to child protection one of these days."

He snorts. "You know I'm joking." He looks down at his daughter, cross legged in front of him, and plants a kiss on the top of her head. "I'm a good dad, aren't I, Mills?"

She turns round to look at him, fixing him with a long-suffering expression that he's sure she's inherited from his brother. "You told me you were going to plait my hair," she complains, "but you've been too busy talking to Mummy and now we're going to be late to school."

"Well, if we're going to be late, you better hurry up with your cocoa pops. Your hair will have to stay down today."

"Not fair! You promised. You can do it quickly."

He sighs. "Fine. Fine. Under the thumb, that's what I am. Come and sit here then, no wriggling."

She does as she's told. Cal brushes her golden brown hair with his fingers. He never gets tired of feeling how soft it is. When he'd first told Ethan he was learning how to French Plait, his brother had been unable to stop laughing. _You? Seriously, Caleb? Well, I can suture, he'd replied, how much harder can it be?_ Still, the skill, though trickier than he had envisaged, managed to please both his daughter and his girlfriend, which he considered a rare success.

"Cal, your phone's ringing," Emma calls across the room. "It's Ethan."

"Can you get it? Tell him I'll ring him back after I've got Millie to school."

"Sure." She answers the call and immediately tucks the phone between her cheek and her shoulder so she can carry on trying to feed Oscar.

He continues to plait but next thing he knows, Emma is in front of him, holding out the phone. "Uh, you might want to take this," she says.

The look on her face makes his stomach lurch. He secures the bobble around his daughter's hair, several centimetres further from the bottom than he usually would, and grabs his phone.

"Ethan, buddy, what is it?" he asks. He heads into their bedroom for some privacy and, more importantly, far enough from the commotion to be able to hear.

"Sorry," his brother says. His voice is quiet. "I know you're busy. Can- can you come over?"

"I can do later, yeah? I'm not working, but Oscar's teething, so Em's having a nightmare trying to get his breakfast down him, meaning it's my job to get Millie to school."

"Oh." Ethan's silent. "Oh, okay."

"Why, what's up? Not like you to actually _invite_ me over."

There's a longer pause this time.

"I… I need to tell you something."

"Okay, shoot."

"No. No, not over the phone." There's an urgency in Ethan's voice that Cal can't quite place. "I'll wait until you get here."

"Is everything okay?" He notices a scribble of purple felt-pen, child height on their bedroom wall. Emma will freak out when she sees that later. Cal's less bothered, especially with his little brother sounding so strange on the other end of the line. "You're being weird."

"Caleb, I-" He's sure there's a tremble in Ethan's voice. "No, listen, I'll talk to you later, okay. Just- just get here as soon as you can. Please."

Suddenly, the dial tone is in his ear. Cal frowns at his phone. It's not like his brother to end a call so abruptly. A feeling of dread settles in the pit of his stomach. He knows there's one bit of news that could explain Ethan sounding so strange. The thing that is ever hanging over them but they never talk about. Even Emma doesn't know.

But there's been times before when Cal's convinced himself his brother is about break that news to him and it's been something else altogether. The last time wasn't even long ago when Ethan had been looking after Millie while Emma was in hospital having Oscar. Cal had gone to pick his daughter up and found Ethan, pale and upset, and thought the worst. It turned out he'd lost Pink Teddy while they were out for a walk and Ethan was terrified of his niece waking up from her nap and finding out. It hadn't been an issue. That particular teddy had already been replaced once, the same having happened to Cal when he'd taken her to the play park, and Pink Teddy the Third was purchased from the toy shop before Millie had even noticed him missing.

He heads back into the kitchen. Oscar's screaming now, banging his fists on the table of his high chair, and Millie has her fingers shoved in her ears.

"Wow. That noise is painful," Cal says. His voice sounds wooden and he hopes Emma hasn't noticed.

"I blame you," she replies. "I bet that's _exactly_ how you were as a child, throwing a tantrum over anything and everything." She glances at him. "What's wrong with Ethan?"

"Dunno, he wouldn't tell me on the phone. I'm going to go over after I've dropped Millie off." He pauses, replays her sentence. "You thought there was something wrong then?"

"Yeah, maybe." She purses her lips together in that thoughtful expression that had first endeared her to him all those years ago, while she was the paralegal drafting his witness statement against Scott. "Millie, go and put your shoes on please. And don't forget your school bag; it's by the stairs." She waits until their daughter has left the room. "I think he was crying. Before he registered it was me that answered, not you. He covered it up pretty well, but I still heard."

"Really?" Cal's heart skips a beat. "You sure? Ethan's not much of a crier."

She shrugs. "Perhaps he's just got a cold."

"Yeah. Perhaps."

She rubs his arm. "Go and see him. Put your mind at rest."

"Okay." He exhales deeply. Emma may not know exactly what he's fearful of but she first met them both when they were both vulnerable and leaning on each other heavily, and she knows anything to do with Ethan still gets to him. "Will you be alright by yourself with Oscar?"

"Debateable," she says. "It's a good job it's Ethan you're ditching me for. Anyone else and you'd have a lot of making up to do."

He murmurs in approval, leans forward and plants a kiss on her lips.

"Daddy, I'm waiting."

He rolls his eyes to Emma. "Duty calls. I'd better go."

"See you later. Oh, and can you get some more teething lotion while you're out?"

"And some ear plugs, yeah? No problem."

* * *

Ethan's house isn't far away geographically but it still takes a while to get there because his brother, somewhat illogically in Cal's opinion, decided to buy a countryside cottage rather than somewhere central. The winding lanes are a nuisance to drive down. Once, Cal would have sped down them, risking the sharp turns at a high speed, but he has a family now and has to keep at a responsible 50 miles per hour. Ethan said he chose it because he preferred to have his morning jog through the fields rather than along concrete pavements, and because why not, as it's still within reasonable driving distance of Holby. Cal suspects his brother feels safer there than in the chaos of the city centre given the increase in knife crime, especially after everything that happened to them years ago.

Cal's own home is in complete contrast; a spacious new-build not far from the centre of Bristol. They'd told everyone they were moving to be within closer proximity to both Holby for Ethan, and Bath where Emma's family live. In truth, they had just found out she was pregnant with Millie and it was the lure of having enough bedrooms for an expanding family that sold it to them. They would never have afforded a house that size in London.

He pulls into Ethan's drive. The jelly-like feeling has returned to his legs now that he is here and about to find out whatever it is that had his brother so rattled this morning. He would happily sit in the car for a few minutes, gathering his courage if he didn't know that Ethan would be at the window waiting for him to arrive.

He's not sure what he's expecting when Ethan opens the door but it's certainly something a lot more dramatic than his brother's _Oh, good, I'll put the kettle on._ He follows him through to the kitchen and leans back against the work surface. Once, he would have filled the silence by going through his brother's cupboards and helping himself to a biscuit or whatever else he could find. He doesn't think he could eat now if he tried. Ethan has his back to him as he busies himself heaping coffee into mugs, but Cal can see his shoulders are tense and he's shaking slightly.

"Ethan, forget the drinks," he says. "What's going on?"

Ethan glances over his shoulder at him and Cal gets a fleeting glimpse of red rimmed eyes.

"You get Millie to school, okay?" he asks. "You didn't drive like a lunatic getting here, did you? You can't, not with a child in the car."

"I know. I didn't," Cal tells him. "I got her to school. She was sulking though when she heard I was coming here. She wanted to bunk off and go see her favourite uncle."

"Bunking off… She's certainly your child."

"Reminds me of you sometimes too," Cal says. He doesn't know why they've chosen now to talk about his daughter when there's clearly a bigger issue to discuss. "You should see the expressions she pulls when she's telling me off. It's like I'm back living with you again."

Ethan doesn't reply. The kettle boils but Ethan makes no attempt to pour the hot water. He's frozen, staring at the wall. "Cal-"

"Tell me."

Ethan turns to him now. He nods but doesn't look him in the eye. "In here."

Cal follows him through to his study. The curtains are drawn despite it being broad daylight and a view Ethan loves on the other side. He hovers hopelessly by the door as Ethan opens his desk drawer and retrieves a letter.

"I- I have this." He holds the letter out. His hand shakes. "Read it."

"I don't want to." He knows he sounds like his daughter when she's refusing to tidy away her toys, but if it is what he suspects it is then he doesn't want to see it.

"Caleb, just read it."

"No!" he says.

He remembers Ethan on the beach that day, thrusting a document into his hand and he stubbornly folds his arms so he can't do the same again.

"Cal, please," Ethan says and there's a break in his voice this time. "Don't make me say it."

"It's started then?" Cal whispers, numbly. "You've had it confirmed?"

Ethan's face crumples as he nods.

Cal feels like he's been punched in the stomach. His breath is expelled in a rush. He wants to run, to escape to another world where the thing he's feared for years hasn't just come true. But, as much as this feels like a physical pain in his chest, he knows it's a million times worse for his brother. He can't be selfish now. He has to be the strong one.

Cal steps forwards, arms outstretched. Ethan hands spring up defensively, stopping him getting close. He twists out of the embrace and heads back into the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" Cal asks in panic. "Ethan?"

"For a walk," Ethan replies. "You can come if you want. You don't have to."

"Of course I'm-" He breaks off, shaking his head. Only his brother would assume he'd ditch him after breaking that kind of news. "But is now really the time for a walk?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"Well because, uh, you've just- you've had-"

"We knew it was coming."

Ethan shoves his feet into walking boots and Cal can't help but watch as he threads the laces, fearing he'll see his brother fumble.

"Yeah, but you _are_ allowed to be upset."

Ethan's head shoots upwards. "What's the point?!

"You-"

"It won't change anything, will it?"

Cal's saved from having to find an appropriate answer by Ethan turning away from him and heading out of the back door. With a sigh, Cal follows. The air feels colder in the countryside than it had in the city when he'd left this morning and he tugs the zip up on his jacket. It has little impact and it occurs to Cal that it might not be the environment that's colder, but him in the aftermath of Ethan's news.

Ethan takes fast strides, as if he's trying to prove something to them both, and Cal has to jog a little to keep up. The mud squelches up over his trainers. He's come unprepared as always, though usually it's Millie who ends up knee deep in mud every time they visit. His daughter loves a countryside walk, whereas he only really looks forward to the pub on route.

He's not sure how far they've travelled but when Cal looks over his shoulder, Ethan's house is tiny at the bottom of the hill, only identifiable by being the final house of four singles in a row. Eventually, Ethan slows and Cal draws level with him.

"I _am_ upset," Ethan confides without looking at him.

Cal puffs. He's not as fit as he used to be, between work and family life, there isn't as much time to go to the gym as he would like.

"But at least I know now. The last few weeks… suspecting, worrying, over-analysing every little thing… that's been just as bad."

"You should have told me."

Ethan turns to him slightly now, wrinkles his nose and gives a slight shake of his head. "You're busy with your family. I didn't want to bother you."

"Ethan, you _are_ my family!"

"You know what I mean."

"Is that the impression I've given you?" Cal says, suddenly alarmed. "Because I know too many of my calls are for babysitting favours or- or to ask you how to get rid of a stain before Emma gets back, but seriously, Ethan, you are my brother, I'll always find the time for you if you need me."

Ethan looks him in the eye now but Cal can't tell if his brother believes his statement. He knows there's been too many times over the years when he's forgotten to be a good brother but he thought that slate had been wiped clean after he nearly died as a result of protecting him.

He wonders if Ethan's thinking the same, for, after a few seconds, his brother's gaze softens.

"Come on," Ethan says, jerking his head towards the top of the hill. "There's somewhere I want to show you."

They continue up the hill but the path has become less defined and small pebbles tumble down the slope with every footstep. Twice, Cal nearly slips. But he's been watching Ethan and his feet don't slip at all.

He's done the research; almost obsessively at first, now still occasionally, if an article spikes his interest or when Ethan's acting funny and he's feeling paranoid. He knows that stumbling and clumsiness are often among the earlier symptoms. But as Ethan's not exhibiting any mobility difficulties he knows that it's likely to be cognitive or psychological instead; lapses in concentration, mood swings, depression. He stares at Ethan's back and feels the energy drain out of him. He needs to know.

"Ethan, slow down, will you?" he says. "We've got all day."

"Can't keep up?"

"We need to talk."

Ethan doesn't reply, just keeps climbing, but Cal can imagine his face, set, stubborn, but for a quivering chin. He pushes down on his thigh, elevating him further up the hill and nearly alongside his brother.

"Ethan, come on-"

"Get the hint, Caleb!" Ethan whirls around so suddenly Cal nearly loses his footing again. "There's nothing further I want to say about it."

"It's not just about you though, is it?"

"Yes," Ethan says, fiercely. "This is my illness, no-one else's."

"Look, I know-" Cal starts. Ethan starts to walk again and he hastily follows. "I know," he repeats, louder this time, "that you're the one living with this. But that doesn't mean you have to go through it all on your own." He pauses. "Please. Let me in, okay? I'm here for you."

"I don't need a therapy session," Ethan snaps.

"Good, because we both know how crap I'd be at that." Cal attempts to laugh in the hope it will lighten the atmosphere, but it sounds more like he's being choked. "But, Ethan, you've dragged me all the way here, we may as well talk about it."

Ethan doesn't seem to react to that and Cal can do nothing but watch as he perseveres up the rocky path. But a bit further up, Ethan stops and Cal takes his chance. He's only thinking about his brother, so the view takes him by surprise. They've made it to the highest peak and cascading down before them are fields in a spectrum of colours, greens, yellows and browns, interspersed with trees and hedges, dotted with the occasional building. He whistles in appreciation. He can sort of understand why his brother likes it out here now.

Ethan points to their left. "That's Holby down there," he says. "Bristol on the horizon."

"Really? How do you know?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?"

Cal shrugs. "Not to me."

He squints. The settlement in the distance could be anywhere as far as he's concerned. He wonders whether his brother would be able to point out the town centre, the hospital, their old road, even. He jumps as he feels Ethan leaves his side. He hopes they're not about to rush off to somewhere else in the middle of nowhere. But instead, Ethan just leads the way around the corner to an old wooden bench overlooking the view.

They sit quietly for a minute, side by side, all the unspoken things making the small gap between them feel huge.

"I like it up here," Ethan says, out of the blue. "Puts things into perspective, don't you think? There's millions of people down there," he nods in the direction of Bristol, "each with their own lives, their own problems…"

"Yeah, and each with their own set of people who care about them!"

Ethan gives a deep, long-suffering sigh, but at least Cal knows his point has been understood.

"I got you here because you needed to know," he says. "I didn't-" he sighs again. "I don't have any expectations, Cal. There are no obligations on you."

"What if-" Cal breaks off. He stares out over the view rather than risking looking at his brother. "What if I _want_ there to be. Obligations, I mean. I am your brother."

"Exactly. And I want you to be my brother. Not a medic or a- a _carer_." He practically spits the last word.

"That's a long way off yet," Cal says.

"Is it? Even if we knew Emilie's CAG count, it'd still be inconclusive. There's no way of knowing how fast it's going to progress, you know that."

"Well what are your symptoms now?"

He braces himself for Ethan to get up and walk off again, just as he has for every other difficult question. But his brother does nothing except tense. Perhaps it's the view that's helping, perhaps it's a location that Ethan's not ready to leave, but either way, Cal takes it as a positive sign. But his heart lurches, right into his throat, and he realises he's holding his breath. He'd thrown the question so quickly that it's only now the consequences sink in. He's not sure if he's ready to hear how the illness is taking hold of his little brother.

Then he hears a hitch in Ethan's breath. He turns to him. His little brother's chin is on his chest and his shoulders shaking. Cal hesitates. This wasn't what he had intended to do. A quiet sob rips from Ethan's throat.

"Oh, Ethan," he says, "Come here."

This time when he pulls Ethan to him, his brother doesn't pull away. He rubs soothing circles on Ethan's back. Ethan's hair tickles his chin. Cal can feel him shaking against him and he thinks it's the emotion but can't help wondering if it's the disease.

"Sorry. Sorry, I thought I was past this." He pushes himself upright and dabs at his eyes with the cuff of his sleeve.

"Here." Cal hands him a tissue. Any other occasion, he would have laughed at the surprise on Ethan's face. "I have a baby," he reminds him, "Once you've spent the whole day with sick on you, you learnt to carry tissues everywhere."

"Right," Ethan says, faintly. His nose is red. "Well, I'm sorry for- for depleting your supplies."

"Will you stop saying you're sorry."

"It's just… the odd word, at first, that's all it was. That's happens to everyone sometimes, doesn't it. But then, getting things mixed up, not making sense and only realising when I saw the confusion on someone's face." He takes a deep breath. "Not remembering whether I'd given someone a 5mg or 10mg dose or- or whether they have any allergies I should be aware of."

Cal feels his own eyes fill. The thought of his brother losing his mental capacity hurts even more than his mobility being affected. He blinks hurriedly, hoping he can get away without Ethan noticing.

"Not all the time," Ethan says to him, obviously sensing he needed the reassurance. "Not often. But still." He looks away now and dabs at his face with the damp tissue. "I… I wrote a list this morning while I was waiting for you. First thing on it- well, second, the first was to tell you, was to- to hand in my resignation."

Cal's hand returns to his brother's far shoulder. "It's definitely come to that?"

"I can't risk a patient getting hurt because of me," he says. "I'd be a liability. I- I am already!"

Cal's silent. He wishes he could tell Ethan that it wasn't true, but they've both worked in medicine long enough to know that the slightest error could be catastrophic.

"Okay, so- so let's go talk to Connie together. She was alright with me back when I couldn't carry out full duties. Perhaps she can find you a non-clinical role."

"It's not Connie any more. New guy. Ainsworth."

In itself, that evokes a lot of questions, but Cal knows it's not the time. "Okay, we'll speak to him then."

"No. You and he wouldn't get on. And I've heard the rumours. He has a lot of contacts and anyone who gets on the wrong side of him… let's just say, you still have a career worth ruining."

"I don't care about some bureaucratic di-"

"Cal. I'll handle it, okay." He sighs. "I should be able to get something through the NHS pension. Doubt I'd be entitled to sickness benefits yet. I _can_ work, just not as a doctor."

"And what are you going to do? Become the new tea lady at Holby?"

From the withering look his brother gives him, Cal supposes he could have worded it more sympathetically. He can't bear the thought of Ethan, who worked tirelessly hard to become a consultant, resorting to unskilled labour through no fault of his own. He knows that could have as great an impact on his brother's mental wellbeing as the disease will.

"That came out wrong," Cal says. "It just doesn't seem fair that you have to leave when you're still…" he tails off, unsure what word will cause the least offence. He knows that what he wanted to say, _still you_, is blunt enough to send more tears to his brother's eyes.

"Still in control of my motor functions?" Ethan finishes for him.

"Yeah. That."

"No, you're right, it's not fair." Ethan says. The harsh undertone has returned to his voice again. "None of it is. But it's going to happen."

Without warning, Ethan gets to his feet. Cal's arm drops onto the back of the bench. His hand hurts where it collided with the hard wood. He rubs at it but doesn't examine it, preoccupied keeping his eyes on Ethan in case he's about to rush off again.

But Ethan stays put. He dabs at his eyes and then shoves the crumpled tissue into a pocket and stops moving altogether. He's not even shivering in the cold like Cal is. So Cal gets up, stands as close to him as he can without his brother getting suspicious, and tries to observe him, to make sure he's not about to go into shock up there in the middle of nowhere with no-one to help. But his breath sounds are normal and his chest is rising and falling at regular intervals.

"Do you want to go back down?" he asks. He hopes Ethan agrees.

There's a long silence and then Ethan blinks, as if he's only just realised Cal is next to him.

"No," Ethan says. "There's going to be a day when I can't make it up here. I want to stay as long as I can."

* * *

Throughout his journey home, the news seemed to hit him harder, growing, filling his head to the extent he knew he probably shouldn't be driving. But he hadn't stopped, just turned the radio up to full blast and tried to blink away the tears. His throat stung and he felt sick and he wanted to scream but when he tried no sound came out.

By the time he reaches their house, he feels like he's suffocating. His throat is filled with the tears he's been trying not to shed. He slams the front door shut and leans on it. His legs feel weak. His head's throbbing.

"Where have you-?" Emma rushes into the hallway. She takes one look at his face. "What's happened? Is it Ethan? Is he-?"

The thought of having to tell her pushes him over the edge. He clasps a hand to his mouth and releases a noisy sob.

She grabs him then, arms tightly around him, squeezing as he sinks to the floor.

"Cal?"

"Are the kids in bed?" Cal chokes out. He can't bear the thought of his children seeing him like this.

"Yeah. Yeah, I got Millie down not long ago. She tried to stay up, wanted to say goodnight to you but-" she breaks off, can't redirect her focus elsewhere any longer. "_Cal_, what's going on?"

He buries his head into her shoulder and takes a few gulps of perfumed cotton. He feels her lips graze the top of his head. He doesn't want to tell her. Doesn't want to say the words out loud and make it even more real.

"You're scaring me," she says.

He sniffs noisily. He hopes he's not got snot on her cardigan. "It- it's-"

"Go on,"

He lifts his head and looks at her pleadingly. Another tear trickles down his cheek. Her hands cup his face and she gently wipes the dampness with her fingers.

"It's Ethan," he eventually manages, although he supposes that much is obvious. "He-" his voice trembles. "Shit, he-" The need to gasp for air prevails and he suddenly finds he's incapable of speech. He shakes his head, hoping Emma understands.

"Is he… ill?"

Cal takes another gasping breath. Hot tears tumble onto his cheeks.

"He is, isn't he?" Emma's own eyes grow damp. "Cal, please."

He manages a nod. He reaches for one of her hands and grasps it in his. Her fingers are damp from his tears.

"Is it Cancer?" she asks. She sounds terrified.

"No." He always finds it surprising how Cancer is the first thing that leaps to people's minds, the thing they're most scared of. He knows, as a medic and as a brother, that there are crueller things out there. "Not that."

"Then what?"

"Em," he says, as if the use of her nickname will prevent her from being mad at him for keeping it from her all these years. "Em, there's something you don't know."

She's silent. He knows she's only ever this quiet when she's upset.

"I lied." He feels her fingers squirm in his. "When I said our biological mum died of a heart attack. It was a lie." He waits long enough to establish she's still not going to speak. He looks down at their conjoined hands and wishes he didn't have to break this to her. "She- she had Huntington's Disease."

There's a pause.

Then. "That's one of those degenerative ones, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Cal takes a deep breath. It barely helps. "It's also genetic."

Her lips tremble before she speaks. "That's what Ethan's got?"

He nods and sags forward into her at the same time. His chest aches. For a few seconds, Emma remains still, but then she grabs him by the shoulders and lifts him up off her. He thinks she's angry at first, but then he sees the fear in her eyes.

"And have you-?" she says, so fast it sounds like one word.

"No." He manages to answer quickly, despite himself. "No, I- we had the test years ago. I'm clear. Millie and Oscar, they're not at risk, I can't pass it on. I'd never have-"

She wraps her arms him and pulls him back against her. "Come here," she says. "Oh, Cal, I'm sorry. I know how much Ethan means to you."

That in itself is enough to send fresh tears to his eyes. He'd be nothing without Ethan. His little brother had picked him up time and time again, solved his problems and forgiven his sins. It was Ethan who was by his side when he woke up in hospital, scared and in pain, and who helped him piece his life back together with patience that Cal couldn't muster. Ethan had allowed him to escape to London despite his own heartbreak over Alicia, helped him study to be a surgeon over Skype, stopped him panicking that he was going to be an awful father. Ethan's done everything to be a good brother to him and it physically hurts Cal to think there's nothing he can do to fix this in return.

"Will you tell me about it?" Emma says, softly. "Huntington's. I've heard of it but I don't really know."

He gives a pained sigh. He doesn't want to talk about it but he'd been in Emma's position earlier when Ethan was reluctant to give him answers and he knows that he has to explain. He wipes his nose with the back of his hand and tries to switch his doctor's head on.

"It's neurodegenerative," he mutters, not knowing if that means anything to her. "There's no cure. Affects… well, it affects everything really. Cognition, mental health, movement-" his heart lurches. "He- he'll need a wheelchair eventually. The disease, it causes uncontrolled movements, spasms, jerks." He pictures Ethan the way he'd known Emilie and shudders. "Problems with speech, swallowing." His breath hitches. "Everything," he repeats. "It- it's really-"

Emma rubs at his back. "Cal, try to calm down. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked, this wasn't the time."

"It's going to ruin his life," he continues, ignoring Emma's advice. He feels panic rising in his throat. "And then- then it's going to kill him." A loud sob rips from his mouth. "It's not fair! It's _Ethan_, my baby brother, he doesn't deserve this, Emma! He doesn't."

With that, he bursts into helpless tears. Emma holds him tighter and he feels her rest her chin on top of his head. He can't tell if it's her that's trembling or him. He doesn't know how he's ever going to manage to stop crying for long enough to breathe.

"Daddy?" Her voice is tiny.

Cal looks up. A tear drops off the end of his chin. His daughter is in front of him, clutching Pink Teddy the Third, bottom lip wobbling, looking just like a young Ethan and that sets him off all over again.

"Millie," he manages to gasp out.

"Daddy, why are you crying?"

He drags a hand across his eye. "I- I"

"Daddy's fine, sweetheart," Emma interjects but she sounds choked up too. "Now, you're meant to be in bed. Come on, back upstairs."

Millie takes a couple of steps but then pauses and turns back to face them. "Is Uncle Ethan going to die?"


	2. Chapter 2

Guys, honestly, thank you so much. Was thrilled with your responses to this. I have really enjoyed writing this set up, so I'm not ruling out adding any more to this in the future _but_ for now this is it. I'd appreciate it if you can spare a few more words on what you think x

**panicpeachpit:** *waves back* Thank you so much, I'm glad it hit the spot. And I'm pleased to know that drip feeding everything that's happened since worked, I worried it only made sense in my head. Cal as a father was actually really fun to write and I think I'll miss it now. Thanks again, hope you enjoy the second installment.

**Amira: **Thank you so much for you review. That was exactly my intention with the name Millie, I'm so pleased you spotted it. Yep, it's bittersweet, Cal being happy with a family, when Ethan can't, so many mixed emotions and I've tried to capture them in this part but I'm not sure how well it's worked. Thanks again for your kind words.

**Guest: **You've read my mind! Thank you for reviewing and for your kind words, it's exactly what I was aiming for so it means a lot you interpreted it that way. Hope you like the update too.

**CBloom2: **Yes, I miss the days when we all flooded these boards with Cal & Ethan fics - I completely agree though, it was their relationship that was the best thing about them. Anyway, really pleased you enjoyed reading and thank you for leaving a review.

**IseultLaBelle: **Thank you so much. I know you're not as much of a Cal fan so it means a lot you took the time to read it. I'm so pleased you liked it and that you felt they, and their relationship, were in character. Hope you enjoy this next bit too.

* * *

**2.**

* * *

The morning post thumps onto his doormat. Ethan doesn't move to pick it up. There's no point. None of it will peak his interest. Bills will still get paid and the pizza flyer will still fail to lure him in. The only difference is the fortnightly medical journal; once enticing, now a cruel taunt. He intends to cancel the subscription but it's another thing on top of everything else on his to do list and substantially less important than house hunting or updating the DVLA that he's no longer safe to hold a driving licence.

The postman waves at him through the window. He once told Ethan that he'd worked the same route for thirty-three years. At the time, Ethan had thought that sounded incredibly dull, but now he can see how the familiarity holds a simple appeal. He raises his own arm in polite response. He's on the verge of losing everything that matters to him so he's not going to throw away his principles as well.

The thought spurs him to get up. He may not have this cottage for much longer but that doesn't mean it's right to neglect it. Besides, Cal's arriving soon and he knows it will only take the slightest bit of mess for his brother to assume he's not coping. Cal's been ringing him daily since he broke the news to him, some days twice and one day straight out of a six hour operation. He knows his brother means well but the last thing he wants is to be treated differently. Their easy banter would be a far greater comfort than the constant cross-examination about how he's holding up.

Ethan runs some water and begins working his way through the pile of washing up. It's unlike him to leave it overnight but yesterday's dinner had left him emotionally exhausted. While he cooked he'd wondered how long it will be before chopping carrots became a health hazard. While eating, he could barely taste the food for imagining what it will feel like to be unable to swallow. Even now, a splash of hot water stings his hand and he can't help but worry that his reflexes were slower than normal.

This is the worst bit. He knows what Huntington's does. He's had years to research it. But nowhere does it mention how the disease squeezes into every pore and ruins even the most mundane of tasks. It's ensnared him already even though his symptoms are mild. He'd always thought he'd be desperate to carry on as normal as possible for as long as possible, but instead he feels an itch to do something crazy; not throw himself out of a plane, his fear of heights isn't that alleviated, but perhaps pack his life into a backpack and travel to everywhere without a plan. Except he can't, because if he did that, Cal would combust with worry.

He glances up at the clock. His brother is late, even by his standards. Ethan hopes he's still coming. He knows it's not easy for Cal to think of him getting ill. He knows because that's how he'd feel if their positions were reversed, how he _did_ feel those first days after Cal was attacked when no-one could confirm his long term prognosis. Besides, his brother has an appalling poker face and so he'd seen it written between the frown lines and between his slightly parted lips as he'd told him. Cal was nearly as scared as he was.

He hears the noise of an engine and glances through the window for just long enough to confirm it's Cal's car. He heads to the front door quickly so he doesn't give his brother a chance to ponder the cause of any delay. Cal climbs out of the driver's seat looking guilty and Ethan's first thought is that he's got into some trouble on the route. But as his brother heads to the back of the car, it dawns upon Ethan that he's not come alone. His heart sinks. As much as he loves his niece and nephew, he's not sure he has enough strength to summon some positivity for them today.

"I know, I know," Cal calls as he releases Millie from her car seat and she springs out of the door, "not the time or place for kids." He leans across the seats to reach for Oscar. "It's Emma's first day back after maternity leave and her parents let us down last minute, something about a trip with their walking club." He resurfaces from the car, clutching Oscar in his carry case. "I mean, choosing a _walking club_ over spending time with their precious grandchildren!"

"It's fine," Ethan says.

"I am sorry though. It was bring them with me or let you down completely. But," he continues. "I've brought loads of toys so we can keep them distracted and still-" he breaks off and frowns over Ethan's shoulder. "Millie, what are you doing?"

Ethan turns and sees that she's crawling beneath his bush.

"Looking for sheep poo," she says.

"No, get up, you're going to get covered in dirt." He rolls his eyes at Ethan. "Maybe the grandparents had the right idea!"

"She's thinking of the sheep we saw on my drive that time," Ethan explains. He remembers watching from the window with Millie and how enthralled she'd been.

"Yeah, well, I prefer the sheep in fields where they belong. Millie, show me your hands, are they clean?"

"I wasn't going to_ touch_ it. Just look at it."

"Why would you even want to look at it? You know what, never mind. You've got a twig in your hair, come here."

"Shall I grab the toys?" Ethan asks.

"Please."

Ethan opens Cal's car boot. There are two large laundry bags, one full, one which has overflowed, littering soft toys and pieces of Lego around the boot. "You want all of this?"

"Just choose a few. Who knows what they want! Honestly, your guess is as good as mine."

Ethan looks up. "You sound stressed."

"Yeah, well, you try having two small children!" Cal pulls a face. "God, sorry, I didn't-"

"It's okay," Ethan hastily interrupts before his brother bumbles through an apology that would hurt more to hear than the initial phrase. He looks blankly at the pile of toys. "Millie, what's it to be today? Ponies or colouring?"

"iPad," Millie says.

"Um, I don't-" Ethan rummages through the things, "I don't think Daddy brought his iPad."

"Yeah, because _remember_ we had that conversation, didn't we, with Mummy, and we agreed that the iPad is only for a treat."

"I won't tell."

Ethan almost laughs. She sounds just like his brother had as a child.

"Too late, I haven't brought it."

"She can use mine if she likes," Ethan says, aiming it at his brother over the top of Millie's head.

"Yessss!" Millie starts to dance.

"Oh, great, that's all our hard work weening her off technology gone to waste."

"Sorry, Cal, I didn't think. Um, technology this morning, healthy walk after lunch?"

Cal gives a resigned nod. "Fine. Millie, Uncle Ethan's going to let you use his iPad but only for a little bit while we talk about some grown up stuff. Okay? You must be really careful with it. More careful than you are with mine. Can you manage that?"

"Yes Daddy."

"Good girl. What do you say?"

"Thank you." She trots off into the house.

"And don't tell your mum," Cal shouts after her.

Ethan slams the boot shut. As he walks back to his front door, Cal's gaze locks upon him. With Millie gone, they've run out of ways to postpone the inevitable direction the conversation will turn.

"So. How're you doing?" Cal's voice is higher than normal, as if he's forcing himself to sound casual.

"Yeah, fine."

"Sure?"

Cal's eyes say everything his words do not. Whether intentionally or otherwise, Ethan can't tell, but it feels as if his brother's silently pleading with him to say something to convince him he's okay. It hurts and he has to look away.

"Come and have a coffee," he says, instead.

He's sure that's not the response Cal was after, but his brother still follows him into the house.

Millie's sat cross legged on the floor, looking longingly at his iPad but being well behaved enough not to have grabbed it off the coffee table without his permission. He passes it to Cal, asks him to sort out the kiddie lock that he did last time, and quickly disappears into the sanctuary of the kitchen to make them a coffee and Millie a squash.

"So, how did the resignation go?" Cal asks.

Ethan jumps. His brother wasn't meant to follow. Cal's still clasping the carry case that Oscar is in and it seems the perfect way to change the conversation. "Aren't you going to put him down?"

"Not unattended with Millie. She'll poke his belly or lick his nose or something and I swear if he gets woken up before he's ready and starts screaming I'm joining in with him."

"That bad?"

"Yeah." Cal grimaces. "Emma thinks there's something wrong. There's not. I've checked. He's just teething and making a performance out of it."

"Sounds like his dad."

"Hmm. Funny. You still haven't answered my question."

Ethan turns back to the work surface and pours boiling water into their mugs. "The resignation." He pauses. "Yes, well, about as pleasant as you'd expect. Health grounds, leaving with immediate effect, I didn't go into details. Thought I'd got away with it then Robyn comes charging after me."

"Robyn's still there?"

"Yeah. Band 6 now. Anyway, she wanted to know if she could shadow me for some training she's doing over the coming months. I had to tell her I was leaving. She wanted to know why. And, well, you remember Robyn; it'll be around the whole hospital by now."

"No milk for me, Ethan, I need a caffeine hit." Cal pauses. "Perhaps that's better though. Saves you telling everyone yourself."

"I wasn't planning on telling anyone."

"Why?"

"To see the same look that Robyn gave me over and over?" Ethan thrusts his brother's coffee towards him and heads back to the lounge, his own drink and his nieces in his hands. "No thanks."

"Yeah but they're your friends Ethan. They care."

Ethan ignores that. He wasn't lying; it had been hard telling Robyn and watching her reaction, but nothing could compete with seeing the colour drain from his brother's face when he'd told him all those years ago. The real reason is that he has no intention of maintaining friendships now that he'll be forced to terminate in the future. He knows he's going to be stripped of all his dignity, the one thing he can control is who witnesses it.

"Millie, orange squash," Ethan says.

She doesn't look up from the iPad. "I like blackcurrant."

"Oh." He glances over his shoulder at his brother. "I thought you liked orange?"

"She _did_." Cal confirms. "Welcome to the life of a five year old, bro."

They sit at the old oak dining table at the far side of the room. Oscar, in his case, is placed on the floor next to him and thankfully doesn't wake. Cal perches on the edge of his seat. To the untrained eye, it could pass for keeping an eye on his son, but Ethan knows it's a sign of discomfort sustained from his old habit of running out mid-conversation.

He takes a sip of his coffee. It's too hot and it burns but the pain makes him feel more alive than anything else has today.

"I've been thinking about what you said last time you were here," Ethan says, "and, well, it turns out that even you manage the odd good suggestion."

"What did I say?"

"About a non-clinical role. At least, for now; I'd obviously have to review it in the future. Research perhaps. Writing articles, that kind of thing. So, I emailed Mrs Beauchamp. She- she knew about the Huntington's already, it came up back when she was being treated for Cancer. Anyway, nothing is confirmed, but she has contacts and she says she'll put in a good word for me."

"That's great, Ethan. I mean it." Cal finally relaxes onto the chair. "You need to have something to keep you occupied."

"I don't think keeping occupied will be a problem just yet," Ethan says. "There's a lot I need to sort." He looks away, plucking up the courage to voice his decision. Millie sees him watching her and lifts her head from his iPad to give him a beaming smile. He returns it, though it's not easy, and turns back to his brother. "I think I should move house sooner rather than later."

"Why? You're alright here now, aren't you? Mobility's not a problem."

"No, but I'd rather move before it becomes one. Besides, I don't trust myself to drive and I can hardly live somewhere this rural without my own transport." He sighs. "I always knew this house wouldn't be forever. The stairs, low beams, tight corners, it's just not practical, is it?"

"Then come live with us!" Cal tells him. "Emma won't mind. She likes you better than she likes me most the time. The study, we could convert it in a downstairs bedroom when-"

"No, Cal. No. It's kind of you to offer but I can't put that on you all." His chest aches. "It wouldn't be fair. Besides, I'm not letting my niece and nephew watch me deteriorate. That's final."

Cal looks crestfallen. "At least come to Bristol."

Ethan's saved from having to answer by Oscar. The baby whimpers at first and as they turn to look at him, he stretches out an arm, tiny fingers curling and uncurling. But then his face grows red and the whimpers descend to a loud scream. Above the din, he still manages to hear Cal groan.

"Left the milk in the car," Cal says. He picks Oscar up and passes him to Ethan so quickly he can't say no. "Back in a sec."

He adjusts his position so that he has his nephew held more securely. Oscar squirms but looks up at him and Ethan can see recognition dawn in his blue-green eyes. His wailing fades.

Ethan knows that Oscar won't remember him without Huntington's. Millie might, but only just. It feels like an iron fist has hold of his heart. It's cruel enough that the disease has got him, and, by extension, his brother, but the thought of two innocent children also getting trapped in its web is unbearable. They deserve an uncle who can take care of them, arrange fun outings and teach them about the world, not the shadow of an uncle that he's going to become.

Yet, the alternative, the thought of not getting to see them, makes him want to give up already. It's not fair. The disease is already going to take so much from him, why does it have to steal his niece and nephew too? His head grows hot with anger. Oscar, as if he knows, starts to cry again.

"Hey, little man," Ethan says. His volume is low, voice shaky. "Hey, what's with all this crying?" He stands up so he can rock Oscar. Through the front window, he watches his brother search his car. Cal looks exhausted. "I think between us we've given your dad a bit of a hard time lately, haven't we? Yes, we have. So how about it then, no more tears? Can we manage that do you think?"

"He always cries," Millie says, joining him at the window.

Ethan hopes she didn't interpret anything else from his words. He kneels so he's Millie's height and she can sit beside him and her brother.

"Look, he's got snot."

"Yeah." Ethan gives a breathy laugh, surprised by how she's lifted his mood already. He'll miss this, when it's gone. "Pass me a tissue then, please." He wipes at Oscar's nose. "It's not that disgusting, Millie, all babies get snotty when they cry

"When I was a baby I didn't."

"You did," Ethan tells her with a chuckle. "I remember it very well. You were just like him."

She looks at him doubtfully but, just like Cal, she has to have the last word. "I wasn't," she insists. "Because he's annoying and I'm not."

"He's not annoying, he's your little brother, and little brothers are the _best_."

She cracks a smile. "Big sisters are better."

"I'm on Oscar's side. You know I'm little brother too, don't you."

"Yeah, 'cos Daddy's old."

"What's that? I heard my name." Cal returns to the room laden with yet another bag.

"Talking about how ancient you are," Ethan replies. He's not missed any opportunity since Cal entered his forties to remind him of the fact, particularly now it's not long until he'll be joining him.

"Oh, cheers." He dumps the bag on the floor and retrieves a ready-made bottle. "I'll just warm this up, okay?... _Nibbles_."

Millie watches Cal head into the kitchen then turns back to Ethan, her face scrunched in confusion. "How come Daddy calls you Nibbles?"

* * *

With Cal watching his every move, Ethan's started to find it claustrophobic inside, so he's relieved when lunch is over and their promised walk is finally due.

He's familiar with all the routes near his cottage now. He knows which are best for running, which include a pub and which should be avoided due to the angry bull that's often in the field. He's also paved routes of his own, forging links to join two existing paths or exploring new areas altogether, discovering in equal measures dead ends and unexpected delights like the peak he'd taken Cal to last time.

Not all the routes are suitable for children and he can easily narrow it down to a couple of options. They've walked them before many times. The summer before last, Ethan had packed up a picnic and taken Cal, Emma and Millie out for a day in the sun. It had been a good day. Millie had loved it. He considers suggesting heading out in the same direction. There isn't time now for the full route, but they could probably make it as far as kids play area.

"Have you got wellies for Millie?" he asks, the determining factor of which way to go.

"Yeah, in the car," Cal says.

Ethan huffs in amusement. The car is his brother's standard storage place these days. He'd learnt that the last time Cal had given him a lift, when he'd had to spend the forty minute journey with his feet atop a hamster cage that was purchased before Emma had vetoed the idea of getting Millie a pet. His brother could do with a Tardis as a vehicle, rather than the flashy Mercedes he'd bought on finance, also without Emma's permission. He's about to suggest as much when Cal claps a hand to his forehead and groans.

"Shi- I mean, bum."

"Bum?" Ethan mocks.

"I forgot a pushchair for Oscar."

"Oh." It's a surprise that he even manages to feel deflated considering everything else that's been going on. "Oh, that's a shame."

"Sorry. Can't think straight. Haven't slept for days," he says. "Oscar's been keeping me up with his teeth," he adds as an afterthought.

Ethan can only hope that's the truth and there's not another reason his brother has been unable to sleep. "I hope you're not performing operations on no sleep too though."

"Don't, Ethan."

"I wasn't having a go-"

"No. No, you're right. But I'm used to long hours, aren't I? I can focus at work. It's everything else that takes the hit."

"If you're sure," Ethan says hesitantly. He doesn't want his brother to risk exhaustion so great he makes an error in surgery. They can't both lose their careers.

"Promise. Besides, you haven't met my head of department. If she thought there was any chance I was unfit to work, I'd know about it."

"Okay." He pauses. "Right then. If a walk is off the cards, shall we let Millie play out in the garden for a bit?"

Cal frowns. "Well you two can still go."

"What, just me and Millie?"

"Yeah, she wants to see the sheep, doesn't she! Go on."

"Oh, no, no-" Ethan begins as he desperately searches for an excuse. "It wouldn't be fair to leave you two here by yourselves."

"Honestly, I don't mind. Maybe I'll even get a bit of kip while Oscar's asleep."

"Cal." His lungs feel as though they've shrunk. "I- I… Don't you think it's a bad idea for me to have her by myself?"

"You've looked after her by yourself hundreds of times."

"Yes, but…" Ethan feels sick. He knows Cal has form for burying his head in the sand, but surely even he can't be this oblivious. "But _now-_"

"Look." Cal looks him straight in the eye. "I trust you, okay."

"It's not about trust though, is it? What if something happens? What if I can't look after her properly?"

"Ethan, nothing is going to happen. Only a week ago you were still treating patients. Nothing has changed that quickly. You can take my daughter for a walk. Just-" he pauses long enough to give Ethan a smile, "don't take her up that hill, okay? Because, to be honest, it nearly destroyed me!"

Ethan manages a weak smile in return but the nervous fluttering in his chest refuses to dissipate. Logically, he knows that Cal is right; he has no symptoms too severe to prevent him from being responsible for a child for an hour or two, but he can't bear the thought of his illness putting her at risk.

"Millie, you're going out," Cal calls, before Ethan has chance to enhance his case. "Time for a wee."

Between them, they layer Millie in cardigans and waterproofs and she shoves her own feet into glitter-effect wellies. Ethan triple checks his phone is stored securely in the zipped pocket and that it has enough battery to last throughout their walk. It can't erase all of his concerns, but it helps to know he has a way to request back up should he succumb to a new debilitating symptom while they're out.

They start out on the same path he'd taken Cal earlier in the week but soon veer off to the right. When they reach the stile that takes them onto the first grassy field, Ethan helps Millie to take the big step up and lifts her over the top until she's on the step at the other side. He wants to lift her down too, but he's seen Cal do this with her before and knows she'll want to jump. Thankfully she lands steadily and waits patiently for him to climb over too. He can't help but wonder how much longer he'll be able to do that for.

"You didn't jump," Millie accuses.

"Oh. No, I didn't," he says. "It's only a little step for me, you see. My legs are much longer than yours."

She looks confused. "But Daddy always says you're short."

"Oh, he does, does he? He says that to you?"

"Yep." She takes his hand. "And he said that I could have a sleepover with Maya when I'm six. But I'm not allowed to get my ears pierced until I'm _twelve_. And that's ages away."

Ethan smiles. He can't see Cal lasting on that one; his daughter has him wrapped around her little finger. "What else does Daddy say?"

"About work. _Boring_."

Ethan nods. He's always encouraged Cal's career development, but he does miss having someone to debrief with at the end of a long shift in the E.D. He remembers the days back in their flat when Cal would grab them both a beer from the fridge and Ethan would tell him about the new procedure he'd learnt and his brother would respond with a story of a life he'd saved. He even missed competing with horror stories of who'd had the worst patient or the most gruesome injury or whose turn it was next to treat the vile Mrs Kearns.

"I saw Daddy crying," Millie says suddenly.

"Oh." Ethan stops walking. He supposes he should respect his brother's privacy and encourage her to change the subject, but he can't let go of the opportunity to dig into his brother's emotions. "Wh-when was this?"

She shrugs. "Don't know."

"Recently? Um, in the last day or two… would you say?"

"He was crying because you're going to die," she says, in the matter of fact way only a five year old can. Her grip tightens on his hand.

Ethan feels like someone's pulled the ground from beneath his feet. His heart hammers in his throat and for a moment he fears he's going to break down right there in the middle of a field in front of his young niece. Once he's composed himself, he's surprised to find he's still standing. He takes a deep breath and crouches down beside Millie. The long grass dampens his jeans.

"Millie, I- I don't know what you heard. That's probably something I need to discuss with your dad first, okay?"

"But I don't want you to die."

"Ohh," he places a hand against her cheek. "Oh, I know. Sometimes, Millie, sometimes people get poorly and- and most the time they get better, but... not always."

"Are you poorly?" she frowns. "Do you have a big red line here," she mimes horizontally across her chest, "like Daddy? Because that's from when he was really poorly."

"Um." He pauses. Again, this is something he should have discussed with Cal. He doesn't think he's ever asked his brother what they've told Millie about how he got his scars. "It's a bit different to that."

"Then you should probably see the doctor," she says.

Ethan wishes he could muster a smile. "That's good advice."

"So can we look at the sheep now?"

"Yes, in a moment." He pauses. "Just- Millie, I want you to remember that I love you very much, okay?"

"Okay."

He lets her run off. She looks carefree again already but his chest aches more than it has already this week.

* * *

Ethan helps Millie out of her trainers and leaves his own boots beside them on the doormat. The mud splashes his unopened post. He knows that should matter more to him than it does. There's a vast size difference between their shoes and it emphasises how young she still is. Too young for the conversation that will need to be held.

He watches from afar as she runs into the lounge and leaps onto a dozing Cal. His brother jumps violently but when he sees who it is his open mouth rearranges into a grin and he pulls her against his chest, tickling her until she shrieks.

Even though he's lived through five years of this, is still sometimes winds Ethan to think of his brother as a dad. Back when Cal was partying most nights and bringing home unknown women half of them, he'd have never imagined him this mature. He knows it's not just the children that forced Cal to grow up, but everything he went through during his recovery, as well as meeting Emma and making the decision to retrain as a surgeon. He's glad his brother has moved on. It's a relief to think Cal has enough in his life to keep him going once he's gone.

With that thought, Millie's words reverberate in his head. He doesn't want to interrupt their moment, but he can't pretend everything is okay for much longer. He hovers in the doorway and waits for Cal to register his presence.

"We need to talk. In private."

Cal raises his eyebrows but doesn't question it. He settles Millie down at the table with paper and crayons and they head into the garden where they can watch the children through the large windows without being heard.

"What's she done?" Cal asks.

"It's what she _knows_ that's the problem, Caleb. About me?"

"Ah." Cal winces. "She overheard me and Emma talking the other night. I didn't realise it was still playing on her mind."

"I quote 'Daddy was crying because you're going to die'."

"Shit, Ethan, sorry. What did you say?"

"I can barely recall, if I'm honest. Something about people getting sick, I don't know, I changed the topic as soon as I could."

"I'll talk to her." Cal says. He hesitates, rounding his shoulders and shoving his hands into his pockets just like he always used to when he knew he was in the wrong. "What do you want me to tell her though?"

Ethan shrugs. "Do kids understand the concept of death at that age?"

"I think she does. Her school friend lost her dad not long ago; we had to explain it to her."

"This is different though."

"Yeah."

"I just-" He takes a deep breath. "I just want to make sure she knows that she's still got me in her life for a long time to come."

"Do you think we should prepare her for the future though? You know, about symptoms and stuff."

"She's your child," he replies.

Cal looks down, shaking his head. "Yeah but I get it wrong so much of the time. I mean, Millie had her school dress on inside out the other day and I didn't even notice until she told me that evening that some of the other girls had been laughing at her."

Ethan softens. "Stuff like that happens. It doesn't mean you're not doing a good job."

"You think?"

"Yes," he says, firmly.

"Well, with that in mind, I probably should do the responsible parent thing and discuss it with Emma first before Millie gets told anything more. Would that be okay?"

"Yeah." Ethan pauses. It's directed him to the next question, but he's not sure if he wants to hear the answer. "Um, how did Emma take it when you told her?"

"It was a shock. I don't think she fully digested it to start with, probably my fault, I was making a performance out of it, like you said earlier. But she's started researching now. I've tried to stop her. I mean, it didn't do us any favours back in the day, did it, and we're doctors. But she cares about you too bro."

Ethan nods but doesn't reply. It would almost be easier if no-one cared at all. He was a doctor for long enough to see the impact illness has on friends and relatives, and he doesn't want to put those he loves through pain that could be avoided. He vows to find a way to stop them getting hurt when things get bad, even if it means isolating himself completely."

Cal narrows his eyes. "No, don't give me that look."

"What look?"

"That look that makes me think you're planning on hiding in some cabin on a remote Scottish island where no-one can find you."

Ethan pauses, taken aback by the accuracy. "Don't be ridiculous."

Cal just raises his eyebrows.

"Fine, maybe," Ethan says. "But so what if I am. It's my life."

"And how's that going to make anything any better?"

Ethan looks away and waits for Cal to click.

"Look," Cal says. "You need to stop feeling responsible for this. You've done nothing wrong, agreed?"

Ethan tilts his head in silent concession.

"So don't punish yourself, yeah?"

"That's not it."

Cal frowns. "No, it is. I get it. You don't want anyone else to be impacted. But I am already am. And… you're going to need me."

"That doesn't help, Caleb."

"Okay, listen, I know it's not the same but when- when everything happened… with Scott, you were there with me in hospital every day, right? For months. And that… that _helped_."

Ethan looks at him out of the corner of his eye. He knows Cal doesn't like to talk about that period of his life and it's for that reason he doesn't retaliate by reminding his brother he'll need support for years, not just months.

Besides, there's a whole chasm of difference between the two scenarios. Cal had got stabbed as a direct consequence of his own mistakes. He'd nearly bled out in the rain because he had been too self-absorbed too answer his phone or check his voicemails. But no-one can be held accountable for what is going to happen to him. Even considering the unconventional way Cal had broken the news of their heritage, none of it was his fault. He has no amends to make.

"You're right," Ethan says. "It's not the same."

Cal breaths out through his nose. "Ethan, I don't know what you want me to say."

He shrugs. "There's nothing, is there." He pauses. "I'm not getting at you. It's just- you have everything I ever wanted and I-"

"You're jealous?"

"No. No, that's not what I meant, honestly. I _want_ that for you. I don't want this disease to destroy your life as well as mine. One of us should get to be happy."

"And you think that being without my little brother before I have to be is going to make me happy?"

"You have your family, your job…"

"They're not you!"

Ethan sniffs. He stares fiercely through the window and tries not to blink for fear his eyes will overflow.

"Look, I'm not the idiot I used to be," Cal continues. "I'm not going to run away the first time things get hard." He sighs. "I thought you trusted me now."

"I do," Ethan says, softly.

"What then?" Cal's eyes flash. "You don't want me there? I'm not good enough?"

"Shut up," Ethan says. "Of course I want you there, Caleb. Of course I-" His bottom lip trembles. "Look, I'm _terrified_ of what I've got coming and- and the thought of doing it without you scares me even more. But that doesn't mean that it's right to burden myself on you."

"You wouldn't be."

"But you don't know that. You've got children, Cal. They're going to need you too."

Cal deflates and Ethan hopes that means his point has finally been understand. Having children is a privilege that was only granted to one of them. If Cal screws up by failing to put his children first, he's wasted the opportunity he's been so lucky to have.

Their gazes sync on Millie through the window. She waves at them and runs over to the window to hold up her completed drawing. To the left of the page two stacked circles are topped with a generous scribble of yellow. Beside it, a balloon of grey.

"That's a picture of you," Cal tells him. "With a sheep. I mean, I think it's a sheep. Either that or you've got a severe case of flatulence."

"Sure it's not you in the picture?" Ethan manages to joke, knowing it's expected of him.

"Nah, my hair's not yellow." Cal gives Millie the thumbs up. He waits for her to return to the table before facing Ethan. His smile has faded. "Millie adores you," he continues, "you know that. If you become a recluse and she doesn't get to see you anymore, it's going to break her heart. And I'm not letting you do that to my daughter."

Ethan feels exhausted all of a sudden. "And it's better for her to watch as I fall to pieces, is it?"

"Let _me_ worry about that." Cal gives a sudden nod, as if signalling something to himself, then grabs him by the shoulders. "Ethan, listen. You need to understand that whatever you say, however hard you push me away, I'm not leaving you to deal with this on your own."

His brother's fingers dig into the bony part of his shoulders. "Cal, don't. Get off me," he says. The grip hurts a little, but that's not the main reason he wants him to let go.

"Say it," Cal says. He's close now, so close that Ethan can feel his breath on his face. "We're going to get through this together. Go on, say it."

"This is ridiculous."

"Just say it."

"For goodness sake, Caleb." He huffs and squirms but Cal still won't let him go. "Fine, whatever. We'll get through this together," he parrots. He'd expected the words to sound preposterous from his mouth but instead he feels overcome with emotion. Cal's hand lifts from his shoulder and moves to the back of his neck, drawing him closer. "Don't," he attempts, one last time.

"Just hug me, you loser," Cal says.

Ethan finally falls into his brother's arms, half laughing, half crying. He'd needed something like this in the days after he found out he carried the gene. But they were still fractured then, holding grudges that should have been irrelevant, maintaining a distance because it was easier than letting each other in.

But all that had changed the day Ethan arrived in a blood splattered Resus to be told his brother was fighting for his life in surgery. Not knowing whether he'd ever see his brother again put it all into perspective. And so when Cal was finally taken off the ventilator, weak, overwhelmed and needing his brother, Ethan knew they couldn't let their history get in the way.

"You smell like baby food," Ethan says into Cal's chest.

"Oh, that's nice when I'm trying to comfort you."

"I'm fine."

Cal loosens his hold a little and eyes him suspiciously. "Are you?"

"Well…" Ethan shrugs. "I haven't changed my mind if that's what you mean. I would still prefer you put Millie and Oscar ahead of me. Far ahead." He pauses. "But, you're actually alright at this big brother stuff these days." He wriggles out of Cal's embrace so he can look at him properly. "And I'd rather do it with you than without you."

Cal nods. He manages a thin smile and Ethan pretends not to notice the glimmer of dampness in his eyes. He knows there will be many times to come when the disease renders one, or both, of them in tears, but wants to limit them to when things get the hardest.

"Hey, look at us," he says, trying to lighten the atmosphere, "managing to talk about stuff like adults!"

"Yeah, but you did just accuse me of smelling," Cal reminds him. "Mature."

"Oh. Yeah. Well, I had to get you off me somehow."

Cal glares at him but Ethan can tell that there's a smile on his lips that he's trying to hide. He suddenly sees a glimpse of the future. It's still awful, still full of medicine and carers and dark days, but now something else too. He has confidence that his brother will be with him right until the end, having someone to bicker with and make him laugh, who will take his insults on the chin and come back with something ten times worse, who will make him feel part of the world still and who will hug him when he tells everyone he's fine. He takes a deep breath. His chest finally feels lighter.

"Come on, let's get back inside," Cal says. "If we leave Millie too long she'll be drawing on your walls. I don't think I can handle the-"

"Caleb," Ethan interrupts.

"Yeah?"

Ethan smiles. "Thank you."

Cal pauses for a moment. His eyes widen in surprise. Then, as the words sink in, he grins. "Any time, Nibbles. Any time."


End file.
